After Death
by Falling Tenshi
Summary: Sequal to The Feel of Feelings Rewrite. Harry/Ray is back, Hermione/Mia is getting married, Daimien is sexy, and the elves are pissy. Or: Ray has changed after killing Voldemort but then so has Mia; enough so, that they still see eachother as sibilings, but not nessicarally best friends. And they elves aren't happy with either of them, and plan to do something about it.


So here's the first chapter. I plan to hopefully have this story finished before next year, but who knows. Once I get a few chapters ahead, I'll give you chapter two, and so on and so on until it's done. Also, I have no beta, so any mistakes, while maybe not fixed right away, will be noted and eventually fixed. Thank you and enjoy.

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Womans response in the beginning part is from: thisisbristol . co . uk/ encouraging-people-break-law /story- 19480707-detail /story. html #axzz2ejPunI6U

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**After Death  
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**Chapter 1: Stairs**

_When Harry first opened his eyes, he was confused. He wasn't used to waking up on a bench to an impossibly blue sky; especially since the last thing he remembered was a blurring memory of being stabbed and of stabbing someone. He sat up, looking around at his surroundings; maybe he had only been asleep for a little while so Hermione brought him outside and put him on a bench to heal._

_His bench was in a field of healthy green grass, which swayed in a gentle breeze, it was a beautiful sight, he's give it that. Unfortunately, it didn't boast a frizzy haired witch. Instead there where many more benches, just like his own holding people just like him – or not, that person has horns and there's someone over there with wings – though considerably less confused looking._

_He stood, since they looked less confused they probably could tell him where he was. The nearest person to him was a blonde woman looking ready to work in a government office. "Hello," Harry smiled politely. "Do you happen to know where we are?"_

"_Instead of reading his press cuttings the Chief Constable, Nick Gargan, would be much better employed reading the Highway Code. In his letter printed on June 28 he states: "And yes, there are some roads on which I would rather see people cycling on the pavement." If he cared to check Rule 62 of the Highway Code he would see that it states, absolutely unequivocally: 'You MUST NOT cycle on the pavement' … How can he justify giving permission to cyclists to break the law?"_

"_Uhh, yeah, wow, okay. I'm just going to go… over there." Harry quickly scurried back to his bench. "That was scary. Hopefully the next person I try wont rant at me about… something…" He coughed, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to his flounder. No one was so he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this, he was crazy too; he let out the breath __and then he-_

-opened his eyes.

This time he wasn't on a bench, but rather on a rickety ballroom floor in an abandoned house. He sat up and put his head in his hand, why was he here again? He went over his most recent memories, he'd been talking with Caleb, and, yes, it was about returning to the living world. He lifted his head, finally recognizing the room; it was where he had stabbed Voldemort. He tilted his head to the side, he still didn't know if seeing Daimien at the end was hallucination or not, but he supposed now that he was back he could just ask Mia or even the man himself.

He stood with a stretch, ignoring the creaking boards under his feet. He looked around, slightly amazed at how run down the place got in three years. Then again, it was probably held together by magic that was now long gone. He took a tentative step forward as the floor groaned in protest. He huffed, "I swear, if I die by falling through a floor moments after coming back to life, I'm… I don't even know what I'm going to do, but it's going to bad for someone else."

He fully put his weight down on his foot and then sprinted for the door. He made it without falling to his death and considered it a victory until he saw the staircase leading down to the front door. "Shit. Why not, why not make this _even_ better; fucking stairs."

He stretched out his leg and nudged the hand rails; they swayed ominously. He sighed; there went the idea of just sliding down that. "Well," he braced himself. "Here goes something." He surged forward towards the stairs.

About halfway down the deprecated stairs his right foot burst through the wood and he had to cover his head with his arms as he tumbled the rest of the way down. He lay curled at the bottom for a moment, calming his heart, before he stood and slowly put weight on his right foot. It held, so it wasn't broken, but he quickly took most of his weight off it anyway due to pain. "Well shit." He sighed. "This is going to make getting anywhere more difficult. What I would give for… a … portkey…" With a grimace he patted his pockets, pulling a card out of his front right. "Right then, Mirror Duck."


End file.
